


Cruel Beauty

by Kyl0R3n, try_reset (technorat)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternative Universe—Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Clothes Porn, M/M, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-13 16:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11763456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyl0R3n/pseuds/Kyl0R3n, https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/try_reset
Summary: After Brendol Hux stumbled into the castle of a Beast, he trades his older son for his life.Life within the Beast Lord Kylo Ren's domain is confusing and strange. Armitage Hux finds himself at times entranced and at times enraged at what his life has come to.(The enchanted rose sits lonely, petals feeling away from its form. When the last petal falls, Kylo Ren will forever be a Beast. If, and only if, someone grows to love him--and he love them in return—will the curse be broken.)





	Cruel Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Here's our kylux mini bang project!
> 
> werewolf-kylo-ren.tumblr.com created the original prompt and the art.  
> gaygalaxyguy.tumblr.com wrote the fic
> 
> Ideas borrowed from both Disney's animated and live action Beauty and the Beast and 2014's La Belle et La Bête. Title blatantly borrowed from Rosamund Hodge's "Cruel Beauty" (which is also a Beauty and the Beast au in a way). Rejected tags: #Hux is a furry he wants to yiff, #Hux is a tease
> 
> warnings: mild violence, sexual content

*

*

*

He scrapes another line onto the wall, cutting through gaudy yellow _fleur-de-lis_ with the stolen butter knife. He sighs too, hiding the knife once that is done.

_Today,_ Hux thinks to himself sullenly, _is the fifteenth day of his entrapment._

As usual, clothing lies draped at the foot of the all too big bed.

Hux stands, not bothering to fix the heavy blankets and furs that cover the bed, and rids himself of the sleeping gown. He lets it fall into the floor. It seems the day’s outfit is a yellow gown, with a ruffled collar and cuffs. He pulls it on over his head, already knowing it futile to argue.

Breakfast sits on the dresser in his glorified prison. Hux eats while standing, chewing freshly baked bread and pieces of sliced peaches and strawberries, finishing quickly.

It isn’t proper, but then again, nothing about the situation can be described as proper.

He pulls on the shoes that are left for him, flats the same hideous yellow as the gown, and marches out of the bedroom, a fierce scowl set on his face.

The Beast’s castle grounds are his to explore and explore he does, with so little else as entertainment.

He follows the seemingly endless stairs down from the east wing of the castle to the gardens. Once there he takes a deep breath of the fresh, almost perfumed air.

Any direction you look within the gardens, flowers go on for miles.

Yellow daffodils grow today, the terrible yellow the same shade as his gown.

Hux scowls, mood darkening quickly.

*

There are a set of rules that came with his imprisonment.

  1. The castle and grounds are his to explore, but he is to never step foot within the West wing.
  2. He is to have dinner every night with the Beast.
  3. He is to never look directly at the Beast. He will regret it if he does.
  4. If he ever runs away, the contract set between Father and the Beast is null. The Beast would kill the entire Hux family for Father’s trespassing and while Hux could not care less for Brendol Hux or Maratelle, he does love the legitimate son of  Brendol, the dear and unfortunate Brendol Jr.



“You seem distracted,” says the Beast.

Hux is seated at the head of the table and, because of the Beast’s ridiculous rules, the Beast stands behind him, not wanting to be looked at.

He hums lowly, dragging the spoon about the stew. “It was cold today,” Hux says. “These dresses you provide are too thin.”

“Then stay indoors,” the Beast snipes, growling like the animal he is. “And _stop_ calling me a _Beast!”_

Hux huffs, raising his nose in the air—a move that easily irritates the man. “Kylo Ren is a ridiculous name.”

“Armitage Hux is no better,” Ren says. He grinds his teeth together too loudly.

Hux spoons some of the red stew into his mouth. It’s thick and far too spicy, pieces of meat and beans floating in the mixture. Then he has an idea and though ideas have gotten him into messes many a time before, he goes through on it.

He holds the spoon backwards and catches a glimpse of the creature behind him.

A hulking beast lurks behind him, horns rising from the top of his head from between strands of longer, darker hair. He wears dark clothing, baggy even on his broad form.

Hux looks away from the reflection, pressing his lips in a fine line.

*

The next day, a voluminous blue gown sits at the foot of his bed. Hux feels as if he could drown in the many skirts.

He hates Ren.

*

The eighteenth day brings something closer to what Hux would actually wear. The shirt is plain and black, similar to the streamlined pants. The jacket is a tad too ostentatious for his taste—with decorative embroidery on its front and back, buttons gleaming far too brightly.

He wanders through the gardens, booted feet more protected from the mud. It had rained that night, keeping him awake far too long.

He stumbles when his foot sinks too far into the mud and catches himself with his gloved hands.

He curses.

*

The twentieth day brings another set of men’s clothing: a shirt, clingy pants, and a matching jacket. All in white.

He sits at a window, sighing, watching as rain rolls down the glass.

*

The twenty-second day brings a gown that reveals both collar bones and shoulders, showing an improper amount of skin. More scandalous even, the white fabric borders on transparent. He forgoes the heavy gold jewelry the Beast Kylo Ren had left but can do nothing but accept the ridiculous heeled shoes.

*

At dinner, Ren paces behind him, clawed feet scraping the flooring.

Hux spoons soup to his mouth. It’s onion soup with a large hunk of freshly baked bread, like something he would eat back home. If only he could eat some cheese. Already he misses the Hux family’s cows and the cheese their milk was used to make.

“Why aren’t you wearing the jewelry?” Ren growls, like the animal he is.

He sniffs, ripping off a piece of bread and chewing slowly. Once he swallows, he answers. “I didn’t want to,” Hux says. “I didn’t want to wear this gown either. I am a sentient being. Why don’t I get a choice in what I wear?”

Heavy footsteps followed by a thump against the wall. Ren has likely lost his temper and took it out on his poor little castle. Truly tragic.

“You,” Ren says, stomping closer to Hux. His paws land upon Hux’s bare shoulders, remarkably hot to the touch. “You ungrateful bastard! You are _here_ acting as a _treasure_ to make up for what your father dared try to steal! I choose your clothing because you are a doll.”

Hux drops the spoon into the bowl, splashing soup onto the tablecloth, batting Ren’s paws away. “Well then,” he says shortly “I believe this meal is over. Excuse me.”

He doesn’t dare look back as he rushes up the steps, following the familiar path to his room.

*

The next day, three different outfits are lain out on top of his bed.

Hux smiles to himself, selecting the simplest—a combination of a shirt, pants, and a vest all in navy blue. The other two are in gaudy shades of red.

*

Dinner is roasted duck drowned in some sort of sauce. Hux eats like a starved man. Rarely did he eat duck while living with Father, Maratelle, and dear Junior. Rarely did he get to eat the choicest pieces of meat.

“What did you think of the garments chosen for you?” Ren decides to ask while Hux clearly savors the meal.

He swallows before speaking, managing at least that courtesy. “I’d appreciate a little less red in my clothing,” Hux says. “It doesn’t do anything for my complexion or my hair.”

Behind him, Ren growls, grinding his overlarge teeth together.

*

The twenty-sixth day brings a selection of gowns all in a vicious red color. Hux scowls as he pulls the simplest one over his head, nearly drowning in the fabric. Little roses are embroidered on the scarlet fabric, running down from his flat chest to the false curve of the dress. The sleeves fall to his pale hands, just a little too long.

He walks around the castle that gloomy, rainy day, shoes echoing across the halls.

Stone knights stand ready to arms at certain corridors, a thick layer of dust upon their armor. He coughs into a fist as he walks by.

There is not much of the castle remaining for him to explore and stave off boredom.

And he is so terribly bored.

 _Take the next left turn,_ something whispers to him.

He follows the strange, unfamiliar hallway, tracing his fingers upon the bricks that make up the wall.

_Take the second left._

He walks and walks and—

Hux pauses, craning his neck.

A door blocks his path, massive and surely locked.

_Reach out. Push open the door…_

The door swings open with just a little push.

A spiral staircase lies behind the door, dark and damp. Unlit lanterns line the passageway going up. Hux presses his lips into a fine line and starts up the steps. Each step echoes faintly.

But he can’t stop following the path laid out for him. After all, idle hands are the Devil’s tools. Hux can think of no one as idle as he, trapped in some massive castle with absolutely nothing to occupy his time.

He climbs and climbs the steep steps, shuddering with a sudden blast of cold air. He curses Ren underneath his breath for having such a ridiculous tower in his castle at all.

The stairs stop.

There is a grand room at the very top. A desolate room with destroyed furniture and clawed-up walls. Ren’s room. Quite possibly the West Wing Hux was told to avoid.

He snorts. _Too late now._

The left wall is absolutely covered by bookshelves. Hux traces a finger over their leather spines, pulling away, lip curled in disgust by how much dust has been allowed to gather.

He continues on, walking by an absolutely ruined, sagging bed.

Then there, pushed against a wall is a small, circular table. A glass cover sits over a softly glowing rose.

Hux approaches it, hand stretched out unwittingly.

He lifts the glass cover and sets it on the table, freeing the floating rose. It stays in place, impossibly hovering in the air, glowing with an unnatural light. He’s never seen something so beautiful.

Hux reaches out—

“What are you doing?” the Beast bellows behind him.

Hux whirls around, mouth dropping open.

Ren is a huge beast, he had known. He stands there, looming above Hux, massive paws twitching, sharp teeth glinting as he growls. His eyes are yellow, ghastly yellow, and the horns that poke from his skull… they’re the most beastly thing about the creature.

He’s never been frightened before. Not him, proud, stubborn Hux. But he comes close now.

“Get out!” Ren yells at his, words echoing around the room.

Hux pushes past him, running, skirts flying about him. He nearly trips over the many stairs. At the bottom of the tower, he keeps on running, to the entrance to the cursed castle.

A suit of armor sits beside the coat hanger. He rips a cloak from the hanger, knocking it over onto the armor in the process.

The armor gives him a glare, or so Hux thinks.

He shudders. _The longer I stay, the more mad I will become._

He pushes the great front doors open, surprised at how easily they give. Outside, the sun is low in the sky. Trees sway with a strengthening wind. It had been a balmy temperature just the other day. How fickle is Mother Nature?

Clouds gather, turning the deep blue to a stormy grey. He shudders, gooseflesh rising as the temperature drops.

Snow.

Snow falls heavily from the sky, blanketing the ground. The earth itself shakes. Hux catches himself with his hands as he falls, shuddering.

He glances back at Kylo Ren’s castle.

Far off, two figures approach. They stumble too, gait too different than a human’s. Instead, they walk stiffly… like something unnatural… like a suit of armor.

He forces himself to run again.

When he had been brought to Ren’s castle, to take his father’s place and to save the lives of those who share his blood, the lake had been frozen over so thickly that he and Brendol had crossed it on foot.

The lake—sparkling and gorgeous in those balmy days of his exploration—stills, freezing over.

Across the lake is a woodland. And just beyond the woodland is home.

He runs, snow seeping into his inconvenient footwear, long gown and cloak soaking up the snow as it falls. His shoes make the worst sort of noise against the frozen over lake. The ice below him is not terribly thick.

It can so easily be broken.

But there is no time to slow down. No time to be careful.

An unnatural beastly noise carries through the silence of snowfall. Hux pauses, mid-step, turning his head to see what it was.

The Beast, that Kylo Ren, runs to him, on all four limbs. He tears through the night, teeth sharp and glinting starkly against his wide lips.

Hux swallows, but his mouth is dry. His whole body freezes in places, like prey found by its predator.

“You,” Ren growls, feet all too loud against delicate ice. “You will not escape me.” And then he takes a flying leap, knocking over them both in the process.

Ren looms above him, weight settled on top of Hux. He leans closer, closer, unbearably close. The Beast opens his mouth—

The ice cracks, sending them into the cold water below.

*

He wakes up slowly, grogginess overwhelming. Blinking blearily, Hux sees the yellow walls he’s grown to hate. Back in the Beast’s dreadful castle.

At the foot of his bed, three knights stand. They stand as still as the statues Hux had thought them to be.

“Isn’t this a bit excessive?” he asks.

One of the knights tilts its hollow head.

Hux huffs, settling back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Heavy blankets are layered on top of him.

 _You will not escape me_ , the Beast had said before the two of them fell into the water. But the Beast isn’t here.

“Just where is your master?” Hux asks the knights, his eyes shut.

“Did you miss me?” Ren’s voice says, cutting through the silence.

Hux opens his eyes and sits up, pressing his back against the headboard of the bed.

He hadn’t heard Ren’s approach. Surprising. Ren typically lumbers, but now he’s light on his feet, holding a tray in his paws. Balanced precariously on that tray seems to be Hux’s meal: the savory smell of chicken broth hanging heavily in the air.

He hadn’t noticed that either. Hux frowns to himself.

_What’s wrong with me?_

“Here,” Ren says gruffly, placing the tray in Hux’s lap. “You’ll eat.”

Hux scowls at Ren but says nothing. He makes quick worth of the broth, drinking it straight from the bowl. If Ren takes issue with his behavior, he says nothing.

“Nothing solid?” Hux asks.

Ren snarls, his lip peeling away from sharp teeth. “Ungrateful bastard,” Ren mutters. It’s a struggle to not flinch at those familiar words. “Wouldn’t want you puking after you ate something you couldn’t handle.”

“I can handle food just fine,” Hux says. His head is light and foggy. He’s still hungry.

“I’ll get you more broth,” Ren mutters, taking back the tray and bowl. The knights do not move, even as Ren walks past and out of the room.

*

He’s to stay in bed and rest for the good part of a week. Any time Hux tries to leave the bed for something, the knights follow and hover. It’s especially annoying when Hux goes to the bathroom.

(What’s more annoying is the time Hux went to the bathroom and nearly fainted while washing his hands.)

Ren stays in the room too, sitting on an overlarge armchair, knees tucked to his chest. He looks younger than he ought to, even with the fur and horns and other beastly features.

“I’m bored,” Hux complains.

“You’re still recovering from the fall,” Ren says.

“I wouldn’t be recovering from the fall if you hadn’t yelled at me,” Hux says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I wouldn’t have yelled at you if you hadn’t gone where you’re forbidden,” Ren growls. His pupil dilate, becoming small as a pinprick.

“I wouldn’t have gone into the tower if I had something better to do!” Hux snaps. He shudders, balling his fists and pressing his nails into the meat of his palms.

Ren looks at him for a long while. Then he gets up in a flurry, nearly knocking over the chair, and leaves the room.

The knights stare at him after Ren’s gone.

“He’s impossible,” Hux complains.

The knights say nothing.

*

He isn't allowed outside. The knights are sure of it, following him about and physically keeping him from the door at times.

"Are you kidding me?" Hux spits. He stands there, barefoot, a loose gown tickling his ankles. "I need fresh air. You can't keep me cooped up like this."

But the knights are impassive. They stand there silently, doing as their master bid them to do.

Hux huffs and sighs, slumping his shoulders. "Fine," he says quietly, giving up the matter for now. "Where is your master then? I wish to have a word with him."

The knights look at one another, as if wondering if they should actually bring Hux to Ren.

They lead him as far as the great door to the West Wing, but do not allow him through. One of the knights slips past the door.

The knight is gone for a while. Hux waits, wearing only a nightgown, and shivers, cold seeping in through his bare feet.

Ren comes out from the door, takes one look at Hux, and growls. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he says.

Hux huffs. “I will die from boredom in that bed,” he says. “Your knights won’t let me outside. You won’t give me anything practical to wear.” He glares, thin arms crossed over his thin chest. “I’ve had enough of this.”

Ren rolls his eyes. “Explore the castle,” he says. “Just not the West Wing.”

Hux scowls, face turning red. “Fine,” he hisses.

Without another word, he turns on his heels and walks away.

*

Ren does not provide him with anything but another fresh nightgown. But Hux cannot stay another day in bed, bored out of his mind.

He walks through the terribly familiar castle, bare feet echoing on stone floor. It’s bitterly cold.

*

The second day he returns to wandering, he is smart enough to bring a sheet from his bed with him. He drapes it across his shoulders, knights watching cautiously, and continues on his merry way.

*

The third day, Hux wakes up to a set of clothing he doesn’t balk at. The shirt is black and fine, buttoning up to the neck. The pants are a little loose, but a belt has been provided as well. A coat is left for him, one lined with fur.

And best of all: knee-long boots made of leather, sized perfectly for his feet.

He struggles not to smile as he walks to the main entrance to the castle.

Ren stands before the great door, dressed in heavy rags, a cloak wrapped about his shoulders. “Well?” he says, rather impatiently. “Are you ready to go?”

Hux nods, following.

*

As master of the house, Ren knows it like the back of his hand.

He leads Hux through twists and turns, finding new and wonderful locations on his property, locations that Hux had not managed to find in his own lonesome explorations.

“That’s the shooting range,” Ren says, tilting his chin in the direction. He continues to walk off, following a path that cuts through the trees.

But Hux pauses, staring in the shooting range’s direction. “A range,” he says, humming softly. “Might I propose a game?”

Ren’s ears twitch with interest as he slows to a stop. He turns, eyes practically glowing underneath the shade of the tree. “What game?” he asks, prowling closer, slow and steady, like a predator.

Hux smiles, not kind but vicious. “A competition to see who has more skill when it comes to shooting,” he says easily.

“What’s your wager?” Ren asks.

“If I win, you’ll allow me to choose my garments.”

“Forever?” Ren scoffs. “That’s too long.”

Hux raises a brow. “For a month.”

Ren shakes his head. “Two weeks,” he offers.

“Deal,” Hux says.

“And what do I get if I win?” Ren asks, his teeth glinting as he speaks, overlarge and sharp.

Hux shrugs, feigning disinterest. “What would you like?”

“A kiss,” Ren says in a rush.

Hux feels himself go red. “Very well,” he says, voice cracking. At the very least, Ren doesn’t seem to notice his embarrassment.

Perhaps after so many years of living alone as a beast, anyone could grow desperate for affection. Even if it came from a scrawny and plain man like Hux.

Ren leads the way to some unsafe structure that barely resembles a shack. Within it, ammunition is stored: bows and crossbows and guns of all types. He picks up a crossbow and hands it to Hux.

“Have you shot with one of these before?” Ren asks.

Hux snorts. “Of course I have,” he says, missing the days he spent practicing his marksmanship with his father. It had been those few days when Brendol had dared to look somewhat proud of him.

Hux strokes the wood of the crossbow. He’s so much more used to a pistol or a rifle than this.

Ren takes one for himself, along with a quiver full of arrows for them to share.

They settle, taking turns shooting at some target in the distance. The paint on the circular disc has all but washed off.

“You first,” Ren says, as if he’s a gentleman.

Hux readies his bolt and fires.

It hits the target, but doesn’t hit where he had aimed. It’s a distance from the center.

Ren snorts. “Keep this up and I’ll start thinking you _want_ to kiss me,” he says. He fires too, but he’s not much better. The Beast scowls. “Best of three?”

“Best of three,” Hux parrots.

And then Ren suddenly becomes an expert at firing arrow after arrow, into the dead center of the target.

Hux scowls.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” Ren says, probably thinking himself smooth and suave.

Hux reaches up, grabbing Ren by his horns and pulls him down, pressing a dry kiss to the beast’s lips. “There,” he says, releasing Ren. “You have your prize.” He turns on his heel and heads back to the castle.

*

Dinner, however, remains the same, as if their kiss had never happened. Once again, Hux eats with Ren watching and says nothing about what had occurred earlier.

Hux sits at the head of the table, eating whatever is offered.

He chews slowly on a slice of heavily buttered bread and looks at another, this one slathered with a copious amount of marmalade. "Do you make your knights cook you food?"

Ren pauses behind Hux, planting his paws on the top of Hux's chair. "What?' he asks.

Hux rolls his eyes. Of course Ren wouldn't understand such a simple question. "The food," Hux says. "Who cooks all the food at this table?"

There's always far too much to eat. Hux couldn't possibly put a dent in the meal. But every night without fail, a feast is put on. Someone must do the shopping and the cooking, but somehow he doesn't quite think it'd be Ren.

"The food here is provided through magic," Ren says, speaking so seriously.

But he says magic of all things and Hux cannot help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Ren growls right in Hux's ear, the hot air tickling.

"Sorry," Hux says, all teeth, not sounding sorry in the very least. "You said magic. I cannot possibly take that seriously."

"Well you should," Ren huffs. He walks to Hux's side, pulling out a seat and collapsing in it. The chair groans underneath Ren's weight. "I am a sorcerer," he says, "and for my insolence of rejecting a master, I damned myself for all eternity."

Hux quirks one brow. "You don't say," he says dryly.

Ren frowns, running one paw through his hair, sweeping it back and away from his face, clearly unhappy with Hux not believing such an odd story. “It’s true,” he says, sounding petulant, like some silly child.

“Very well,” Hux says, letting the matter drop.

“Tomorrow,” Ren says, “meet me at dawn by the door. We could have a rematch, with the same terms.”

*

Instead of the practical pair of shoes Hux had imagined, a pair of heels is left for him: exactly his size and slender. A strange walking pair of shoes for the day of walking Ren had surely alluded to.

The rest of the clothing left too leaves something to be desired. Hux doesn't count the many layers of petticoats and other nonsense. A knight stands at the corner of his room, daring to look mildly afraid.

(How it does look afraid with his featureless metal face, Hux does not know nor does he care to know.)

"Are you to act as a maiden's maid?" he scoffs.

He scoffs less when the knight springs to action, holding up a slip for Hux's inspection.

"You're joking," he says, feeling himself go pale.

The knight does not.

Hux sighs and allows himself to be dressed, in layer after layer of skirts and pockets and other ridiculous things. “Is this meant to slow me down?” Vengeance for running away after a simple peck on the lips?

The knight tilts his head, as if contemplating Hux's question.

Hux huffs and shoves off, ignoring his companion.

Ren waits for him outside the front door to his castle, a fresh breeze blowing inside. He's dressed in rags again, a hole-filled cloak dragging against the grass. He looks at Hux far too long with his yellow-gold eyes. "Ready? he asks.

Hux gathers his skirts, lifting them away from his ankles in what is surely an obscene gesture. He scoffs. "Of course I am," he says easily enough, pushing past Ren and leading his way through the gardens, knowing how to get to the shooting range now.

*

From then on, Ren sits with him as he eats.

They talk and then they argue. But never again does Ren yell or scream at Hux. He complains, yes, but the Beast has become tamed.

Hux does not know what has provoked the change.

“So,” he says, “do you not eat?”

Ren looks at him curiously, hunched over the table, tucking a furry chin atop his hands. “I do eat.”

“Not in front of me,” Hux says.

“Yes.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “I thought you’d subsist off your precious magic,” he says.

“Rest assured that I am not that powerful,” Ren says simply.

Underneath the table and his many layers of skirts, Hux kicks off his atrocious shoes. Once again Ren has won their wager. The knowledge of Ren’s soft mouth prickles Hux’s lips.

The shoes make heavy noises as they fall from his feet to the floor.

Ren raises a brow. “What was that?”

“The shoes you make me wear,” Hux says scathingly. “My legs ache.”

“I’ll see what I can do about the shoes,” Ren says, his golden eyes fixed upon Hux’s throat.

*

In no decent society would someone wear what Hux has been given today.

At least the shoes are flat and made with comfortable leather, soothing his aching feet, he tells himself, though his cheeks scorch.

Not only does the dress cut low upon his flat chest, but it leaves his shoulders and arms bare. Worse yet, the skirts are asymmetrical, parting to reveal not only his legs but his _ankles._

The red of the fabric otherwise does him no favors in regards to his complexion, but it seems Ren favors him in the color.

Ren can hardly take his eyes off of him, trailing down his form and humming with approval. “You look nice,” he says, voice growing husky and deep.

It’s then Hux remembers how long it’s been since he’s shared a bed with a man who’d hold him in muscular arms and whisper dirty things in his ear. His flickers his eyes down Ren’s broad form, eyeing the Beast’s ill fitting trousers. Though he’s assuming they have a similar anatomy, he’s quite sure Ren would be a more than decent bedfellow.

“So, the shooting range?” Hux says, walking ahead of Ren, sure to make sure the Beast has something to keep an eye on.

“The shooting range,” Ren repeats, rather stupidly. “R-right…”

*

Hux is sure to lose his wager, aiming deliberately poorly.

This time, when he kisses Ren, he traces the seam of Ren’s lips with his tongue before parting, sure to look Ren in his eyes before walking off.

*

If there is one thing Hux is sure Ren enjoys of his body, it is his long and slender legs.

For every day, a dress of similar design is left, parting some improbable and improper way to reveal creamy flesh.

He wins the wager a particularly windy afternoon.

“I’ll be picking my own clothes for the next two weeks,” he says smugly, smirking up at Ren.

“Very well,” Ren says hoarsely, eyes open wide, wetting his lips.

*

The closet brought to his room is supposed to be _magic._

That’s what Ren has said.

It’s a towering thing, even taller than Hux and far, far broader. The wooden outsides have been painted white with tiny flowers up and down the sides.

“You’ll ask it for what you wish to wear,” Ren had said. “If it is within the closet’s power, your clothes will be in there.”

“I wish for some dress,” Hux says, feeling foolish, talking to a piece of furniture. “One that will flatter my legs.” Ren had chosen some daringly low cut pieces too, finding something of interest in Hux’s collar bones.

Perhaps the closet can also hear thoughts, because the dresses that appear when Hux opens the door are all low-cut with either strategic partings for legs or strangely thin, practically translucent fabric.

“These are perfect,” Hux says, smiling viciously as he reaches out a hand to feel the delightful textures of the dresses.

He selects a black dress, one that has a opening that cuts to nearly his navel. One that has a skirt made of strips of hanging fabric, sure to show his legs at every step.

Hux smiles even more wickedly as he pulls the damned thing on over his head.

The fabric sparkles and glitters as light hits the embroidered jewels.

“It’s perfect,” he tells the closet. “Now I’ll just need some matching shoes.”

As if sentient, the closet doors shut and then reopen, a pair of wickedly tall black heels sitting pretty just for him.

*

Ren’s jaw truly does drop once Hux descends the stairway.

“I-I,” the Beast says, lost for words. He swallows audibly, his pupils dilating to narrow slits. “I thought you’d want to wear something less… revealing.”

Hux hums softly, taking slow careful steps forwards. “I’ll pick what I wish to wear and when,” he says. “Now, I’m thinking we have a new wager.”

Ren nods his head eagerly, even just to hear, not knowing what to stare at.

“If I win the wager,” Hux says slowly, “then you’ll kiss me… a little lower down.”

It looks as if Ren’s brain short-circuits at that. “It sounds as if you wish for me to throw the match,” he says. “You… do not find me repulsive?”

Again, Hux allows himself to look Ren up and down. He might be extraordinarily hairy and horned, but he is also incredibly broad and far kinder than other lovers Hux has taken.

“No,” he says.

“If I win,” Ren says, wetting his lips once again, “I’d like a dance with you.”

Hux blinks, momentarily lost. “I see,” he says, nodding.

But he doesn’t understand at all.

*

At the shooting range, Hux wins the wager.

He turns to Ren, after putting away the crossbow. “So,” he says, “the kiss.”

“The kiss a little lower,” Ren says. “What vague phrasing.” He sweeps forwards, gathering Hux in his arms and pressing a wet kiss to the hollow of Hux’s throat. “There’s your prize,” he says smugly.

Hux stands there, seething. “Very well,” he says between gritted teeth.

*

The next day, he changes his request to the closet and finds himself a different sort of gown.

The deep red fabric glitters like all the stars in the sky and clings to Hux’s body. The neck swoops down to just above his navel. Everything else is covered, as if it’s some sort of punishment for the Beast.

Ren still stares at him hungrily, as if Hux is something to eat.

“The same wager?” he asks, voice low.

“Yes,” Hux says, chin tilted up defiantly.

*

As the arrow hits its mark, Hux breaks out into a grin. He turns to Ren.

“I think you’re getting too good with that,” the Beast complains. “Tomorrow we’ll switch to shooting with rifles… and move the targets further out.”

Hux clicks his tongue. “Don’t complain,” he says, standing before Ren. “You lost. So pay up.”

“Very well,” Ren says, not upset at the slightest. He kneels before him, licking at Hux’s exposed skin, tongue going over fabric and tracing where his navel is.

Hux sighs breathlessly. It’s not exactly what he had wanted but arousal pools within him. If only Ren could do more…

Seeing the Beast at his feet is an all too seductive image. That mouth could be put to good use, along with such clever, thick fingers.

Ren smirks up at him. “Do you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you, Hux?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hux says, knowing how well the gown he selected clings to his skin. His growing hardness must be noticeable.

This time it is Ren who stalks away.

*

Hux sighs before the closet.

“Listen,” he tells the closet venomously, having grown tired of his and Ren’s games. “I need something to wear. Something that Ren cannot deny me in. Something that I can seduce him in.”

It takes a while for the closet to open, as if the piece of furniture needs a moment to think.

But when it does open, there is only one gown there.

A gown of translucent fabric, with sewn designs in reds and purples, and golds lining the wrists to the shoulders and continuing to his hips. There, only a thin train of embroidered fabric hides his manhood, leaving thighs and calves practically exposed.

Hux nods slowly.

He puts it on carefully, sure to not rip such delicate fabric.

The closet opens again, with suggestions for shoes, but he denies it.

“I have a feeling I won’t be going outside in this,” he says slowly, his insides buzzing.

It’s time for him to win this slow game of seduction.

*

The Beast doesn’t react like Hux had hoped.

Ren recoils backwards, holding up a hand to block his view of Hux. “Wh-what are you doing?” he sputters. “You can’t go outside like that!”

“Why?” Hux says, raising one brow. “Only you will see me like this. I don’t see what’s so scandalous.”

If Ren had not been a giant, furry creature, then perhaps he’d be blushing. The pointed ears lie flat on his head, like a particularly distressed cat. “Do you mock me?” he says quietly.

“What?” Hux says, taken back. “What on earth do you mean, Ren?”

“So you do mock me,” the Beast says mournfully, wide lips quavering. He turns away, leaning upon the door. His shoulders shake.

Hux leans closer. “Ren…” he furrows his nose, trying to make sense of what he sees, what he hears. “Are you crying?”

“Go away,” Ren growls.

“Ren,” Hux repeats softer, impossibly softer. Gently, he touches Ren, placing his hand upon Ren’s shoulder.

“Go away!” Ren snarls in his face, baring every last one of his sharp pointed teeth. His pupils are mere pinpricks amongst the gold. He growls, an animalistic noise Hux has heard that noise before. In his father’s shouts and in the fierce ringing of his stinging palms.

Ren’s anger melts from him. He reaches out slowly. “Hux. Sorry. Hux, please say something.”

Hux turns slowly. His heart beats too loudly in his chest. His hands shake. But Ren hadn’t hit him. Hux has no excuses for the shaking and the fear. “Let’s… not go outside today.”

Before the Beast can say another word, Hux turns and runs. Right back to his room.  

Slamming the door shut and leaning against it, Hux lets himself breathe. Or so he tells himself as he weeps softly, wrapping his arms around his knees and holding himself the best he can.

The magic cabinet in the corner makes a groan, like wood settling.

Hux likes to think it sounds  sympathetic.

*

He wakes up sitting on the floor, cold and still dressed in the gown he thought the Beast would like. Hux rids himself of it, throwing it into a heap, and opens the closet to find something new to wear.

Without him asking, the closet had provided a few options, all of which being warm-looking nightgowns. He picks up a random one and pulls it over his head, crawling back into his bed and pulling the sheets up.

Outside, it rains, the drops bouncing against the windowsill. Somewhere, thunder rumbles in the distance.

Hux falls asleep once again.

*

He wakes up groggy, his eyelids heavy, his heart beating much too quickly.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Someone raps against his door and then leaves quickly after, feet hurrying against the ground, going far, far away.

Ren.

Hux stands, throwing the blanket away from his legs. Slowly, he approaches the door. It must have been Ren, he thinks. There aren't many other options.

Hux opens the door and finds... a tray of food, the fresh scent of bread and stew steaming from where Ren had left the meal. He cranes his neck, looking up at the clock. It's a little past their usual dinner time.

He picks up the tray and retreats into his bedroom, left more confused than ever.

If he'd run away from his father the way he ran from the Beast, Hux is certain he would be missing dinner for a week. But the Beast had come to drop off some food, to be sure that Hux would it.

It's just so unusual, so bizarre. Hard to wrap his head around it.

"I must... try to make amends," Hux says softly, speaking mostly to himself.

Again the closet makes a soft sort of noise. He'll take it as encouragement.

*

In the morning, Hux washes quickly, dressing in practical clothing after Ren's shocked face guilts him so.

He takes quick steps to the main entrance, practicing what he'll say to Ren in his head.

An apology, maybe, for being so forwards. But he really, truly had wanted to seduce him. Not mock him or anything. His stomach turns.

Ren isn't by the main entrance. He's not within the sitting room or the kitchens or any of the rooms Hux has discovered.

He pauses in one of the halls, head turning to look at the group of gathered knight figures, standing so still in the hall, like they'd been returned to states, lifeless and still. "Excuse me," Hux says, clearing his throat. "I'm looking for your master. Would you happen to know where he is?"

The knights tilt their empty heads, looking at one another.

They return their empty gaze to Hux but do not move from their spots.

"So, do you or do you not know where Ren is?" Hux asks, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot. He frowns stiffly, growing impatient. They're wasting time that he could use in his search. Only a few hours are left in the day, after all.

Then one of them relents, tilting its tin head and gesturing for Hux to follow. The knight leads the way through the twisted halls of the castle, the very same halls Hux had wandered for days. And yet the knights lead him to a room Hux had not seen before.

A room filled to the brim with books.

A library.

Hux cranes his neck to take in the view of all the books, all the bookshelves.

A fireplace roars to life, Ren sitting comfortably in a reclining chair.

"There you are," says Hux, approaching him.

Ren looks at him, eyes lingering at Hux’s throat, now covered with the collar to a starched shirt. Now he seems interested, Hux thinks bitterly. A little too late.

"You're wearing a suit," says Ren stupidly.

Hux scoffs. "Of course I am," he says. “Remember. You grew scared the last time I wore a gown.”

The ears on top of Ren's head twitch. Hux hopes they twitch with mortification. "No," Ren says.

“You did grow scared. You thought I’d make fun of you?” Hux continues, snorting. “I do tease you, but I will not lie about my attraction to you.”

Ren looks at his knight, as if hoping he'll be rescued by it.

"What is the meaning of all this?" Hux asks. "Locking me up, like I'm some sort of prisoner, then freeing me, then balking at my foolish attempt to seduce you.”

Ren looks at him oddly. "Well," the Beast says. "Technically, you are a prisoner, Hux… you wouldn’t choose me if you could have your pick of suitors.”

Hux bristles at that. “Well, I don’t have a pick of suitors,” he scoffs. “I never have. Besides, I am to live here for the rest of my pitiful life with you," he says, narrowing his eyes, "then you cannot blame me for hungering for touch. I am growing mad with boredom. I want--"

"Do you like books?" Ren interrupts.

Hux's mouth falls open. "What?"

Ren gestures around the room. "Do you like books?" he repeats. "Then read. Every book here. You are allowed to enjoy this library so long as you stay with me. Just stop with the seduction… you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Hux blinks dumbly. He hadn't expected this. He runs his eyes over the walls of books, over the many thick spines. He nods. "Alright," he says, a little hoarsely. “I’ll read the books—“

"Thank you,” Ren says, nodding. “I had worried you’d never outgrow that silly thought.” He snorts. “To think you thought of—“

Hux leans forwards, grabbing Ren by the horns and guides him up, pressing a flat kiss to those wide lips. “I’m still thinking of seducing you, make no mistake. But since you seem rather uninterested, I might as well entertain myself with books. They at least won’t disappoint.”

Ren looks at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, but he doesn’t find his words.

*

How quickly does Ren regret his offer.

Hux lounges upon a couch, white gown tucked underneath bare feet, a book in hands.

Ren sits on a nearby chair, watching. "It's been days," he says.

Hux makes a soft noise, tracing the lines he reads with a finger. "And?"

"And you haven't grown bored of this place?" Ren asks.

"No," Hux says. Some of the windows have been opened to let in a fresh, balmy breeze. He has something to occupy him, stacks and stacks of books that have seemingly no end. "Have you?"

Ren makes a noise, sounding much like a wounded animal. He's frustrated, tossing his head and mane and snorting. "Wouldn't you rather go to some of the other rooms sometimes?" Ren says, bored of his endless library. "Or stay in your own and get some more rest. You’ve been overworking yourself again.“

Hux scowls. "I rest often enough." He stands, shoulders back and head level, peering down at the still sitting Beast. “You’re free to do as you will, Lord Ren.”

Ren frowns. “I won’t leave you.”

“Hmm?” Hux hums. “Now you don’t want me to leave your side. How interesting. Very well. If you’ll accompany me on my walks again, I’d like to begin tomorrow, though, of course, we won’t be returning to the shooting fields for a while.”

Though Ren scowls, Hux likes to think he sees the creature mull the thought over. Finally he nods his great head. "Very well," Ren says, managing to make it sound like he's granting Hux a big favor. "Tomorrow," he says, "be prepared for one hell of a walk.”

Hux snorts, unable to hold back his laughter. “My,” he says. “What language.”

*

Ren walks him around the grounds, taking him past the sparkling lake. How quickly it froze over when Hux had attempted to escape. Now it seems to mock him, sparkling and shining, all too gorgeously. And behind it—the world Hux had left behind.

Which was fine.

Definitely fine.

He did this to protect Techie, he reminds himself quietly. Techie and his shy smiles and his frightened demeanor. Of course the older (and, far more importantly,  illegitimate) Hux brother was sent to live in this enchanted castle.

He can simply hope that Techie is doing well.

“You look troubled,” Ren says quietly, pressing close, as if he thinks Hux is cold.

Hux doesn’t say a word, he just stares at the cool water, the tree line behind it. Somewhere further on lies their tiny, stagnant village and the simple people that lived in it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ren offers.

He snorts. Just what would he do with a mere penny here? What would he hope to buy. “I’m thinking of my brother,” Hux says, the words coming out softer and more pained than he would have liked.

He can almost hear Ren thinking.

“Tell me about him,” Ren says softly, treating him gently, like he’s something that will break.

Hux smiles. “His name is Brendol Jr. I call him Techie.”

Ren furrows his nose at that. “Why would you call him that?”

Hux shrugs. “It’s a childhood nickname. I’m not quite sure how I came up with it myself,” he says.

Ren bends and picks up a flat-looking stone. Examining it, he says, “Tell me more about your brother.” Then he tosses the stone, golden eyes watching as it skips across the water’s surface.

“He’s shy. Terrified of others, even,” Hux says. He can’t help but laugh a little. “Phasma was interested in his looks, but lost interest after hearing of his lack of a backbone.” He rolls his eyes. “That Phasma thinks of love as she thinks of hunting. She’s only there for the thrill of it.”

“Who’s Phasma?” Ren asks.

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot you wouldn’t know her,” Hux says, shaking his head. “A war hero. My father tried to marry Techie off with her, but she wanted a challenge.” Hux picks up a stone and throws it, trying to do as Ren did. His stone sinks. “Scandalously, she went after me for a while…”

Ren looks at him, horrified. “I thought you said you didn’t have suitors.”

“I don’t. That was corrected shortly,” Hux snorts. “Besides, I’d rather die than be someone’s trophy.” He picks up another stone and throws it, watching as it sinks immediately.

“Here,” Ren says, crouching. He picks up a flat, smooth stone. “Try this one.”

Hux takes it from him and flings it. Predictably, it sinks without much fanfare.

Ren shakes his head. “You’re throwing it wrong. Here. Like this.” Carefully, his furry hand guides Hux’s wrist in an arc. “Try again.”

Hux does so.

Finally, the stone doesn’t fall into the pond immediately. It skips across the water’s surface for three bounds. Then it sinks.

Ren offers him a wide smile, then catches himself, trying to smile less. It’s all too obvious. “There you go,” he says, sounding awfully proud of himself for such a small accomplishment. “Soon enough we can have a competition for that too.”

Hux snorts, beginning to walk away. “You’d have the advantage there.”

“Maybe there’s something I’d like to win,” Ren says cryptically enough.

*

His legs ache after so much walking. Hux takes himself to the library instead of the outdoors the next day, much to Ren's chagrin.

He reads, legs resting on the end of the couch, shoes discarded somewhere onto the floor. The enchanted closet has not been removed from his room, but he can hardly bring it up. What if Ren had simply forgotten about the boundaries of their bets?

He doesn’t bring it up. Why mess up a good thing?

“What are you reading?” Ren asks, sounding dreadfully bored.

“One of your books,” Hux says without looking up. He licks a finger before flipping the page. “I should think you’ve read them all.”

Ren snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. Some of them are in Greek.”

“You keep books that you cannot even read in your home?”

“What else should I do?” asks Ren. “Do you know of anywhere I can rid myself of these books? A library in needing of donation? Certainly not on my cursed plot of land.” He pouts, his lower lip pushed out, his arms crossed over his chest in a sullen, silly matter.

He looks ridiculously _cute_ , in a disarming sort of way, speaking like a young man would.

“Lord Ren, forgive me for being so forwards,” Hux says, “but just how old would you be?”

Ren blinks, unable to figure out just why or how Hux had come up with that strange twist to their pleasant conversation. “I must be… twenty by now.”

Twenty. Three years Hux’s junior.

“How old were you when you were cursed?” Hux says slowly.

He hopes to hear two years. Maybe less.

“I was ten years of age when a great warlock cast me down,” Ren says, sobering quickly. How terribly does Hux miss his toothy grin, the sparkle in his eyes as he spoke of silly things.

“You were a child,” Hux says, scowling. He stands far too quickly, knees nearly giving out on him for the briefest of moments. “How could someone punish a child so harshly?”

That… does not improve Ren’s mood.

If anything, he sours further.

Hux sighs. “Not your appearance,” he says. “I could never find you repulsive. But the thought of someone sentencing a child to live alone… for eternity? I cannot bear it.”

It brings him back to his own sad childhood—a lonely existence, one spent shunned by Brendol Hux and his young wife, the beautiful Maratelle. But at least the servants had treated him kindly, at least there were people—living, breathing human beings—willing to speak with him. At least Rae Sloane had offered sanctuary whenever she came to town.

(Rae. He wonders if she misses him.)

Ren looks at him, eyes shining, penetrating his thin skin. “You… you were a lonely child too,” he says, so sadly.

Hux’s lips twist to form a sharp frown. He smooths down his hair, rubbing at his chin. “I don’t see what my childhood has to do with anything.”

“So you _were_ lonely,” Ren says in that deep, lovely rumble of his.

Then, much like a cat, Ren fits himself in a space much too small for him, squeezing beside Hux on the couch. He rests his chin against Hux’s shoulder, body so very warm, even through the many layers between them.

“Read to me,” Ren demands.

Like a spoilt child.

Hux sighs, picking up his book where he’d left off. “Very well,” he says, clearing his throat.

*

Some days, they spend time in the vast libraries, Hux reading to Ren as his voice grows hoarse.

Other days, they walk the massive grounds surrounding Ren’s castle, always finding something new. The weather and seasons change unnaturally, though Ren never mentions it. (He simply drapes his tattered cloak over Hux when the weather grows too cold, retrieving it only when the weather improves.)

There are so many knights, all scattered throughout the lands.

The lucky ones haunt the castle corridors, their joints creaking faintly as they mark. The unfortunate souls outside—however—are left in much sadder states.

The saddest one he sees is trapped in the dirt, one iron hand reaching out, as if for help.

Ren does nothing about it, so neither does Hux.

*

“I’d like for us to have a little competition,” Ren says, his massive paw against the small of Hux’s back, leading him to the massive shooting range.

“And what sort of competition would it be?” Hux says. The targets are farther out today. A challenge. As if his skills could grow rusty… does Ren truly want to win?

Ren loses his grip upon Hux, pulling out two rifles from the shed. “Here,” he says, handing on to Hux. “Have you ever used one of these?”

Hux examines it, hands tracing the exquisite details on the muzzle. “Yes,” he says. “Often. I did the hunting for the family.”

“Did you?” Ren says. “How interesting… I was under the impression that your thieving father was rich. Perhaps I was wrong about him.”

Hux snorts. It comes out more wetly than he’d like, as if he’s actually upset about his shitstain of a father. “You aren’t wrong. But he was also… very frugal.”

More worth it to obtain munitions than food. Brendol would rather outfit an army than to feed his wife and children.

“Interesting,” Ren says again.

“So,” Hux says, retrieving ammunition and a rag, wiping the spotless outside of the gun. “What is the wager?”

“If I win… I’d like for you to answer the truth when I ask a question,” he says, hanging his head.

Hux raises one brow. “Acceptable,” he says. Even far too easy. Hux was always too forwards. Perhaps it’d be appreciated now.

“And… what would you like?” Ren asks.

Hux taps his lips. “A kiss," he says simply.

Ren frowns.

“If you don’t like it, see to it that you win,” Hux says, turning away from the Beast.

Is his appearance truly so repulsive? He’d been sure to shine his shoes spotless and to comb back his hair carefully. Perhaps Ren didn’t like that.

Hux rams the bullet and powder in, hastily readying a shot, still seeing the red of his humiliation. He fires and just barely catches the corner of the target. He scowls.

A poor shot.

“I think you’re making it too easy for me,” Ren says. When he fires, he hits the inner circle.

Hux reloads and shoots again, this time landing a far better shot. He sneers at Ren. “I’d never go easy on a soul.”

“That’s too bad,” Ren says. He fires twice, both shots hitting dead center.

No way for Hux to best him.

“Looks like I win,” Ren calls, even as an infuriated Hux turns on his heels and marches back to the shack, dropping off his borrowed gun without cleaning it.

“Hux,” Ren says, following him, like a shadow brought to life. “I believe you owe me an honest answer.”

Hux turns, staring up at the all too expressive face. Ren’s beautiful, golden eyes stare down at him, his long dark hair falling to frame his fur-covered, angular face.

“Well,” Hux says impatiently. “What is it?”

“Just what do you feel for me?” Ren asks.

The wind picks up, biting through clothing. Hux shudders.

“What do I feel for you?” He repeats dumbly, shaking his head after. “I feel a great many things. You are my captor, but truly… you could be worse.”

“That’s not a compliment,” Ren says, snorting. His ears droop down, like some sort of disappointed puppy.

“Hush,” Hux says. “I haven’t finished speaking yet. And though you might be my captor, you’ve treated me decently enough. You are childish, ridiculous, and over-the-top at times. You drive me mad. None of this negates my attraction to you.”

His ears prick up, betraying his joy at hearing that, but he does not let it show. Instead, Ren draws his muscular arms over his chest and lets out a huff. “How very clinical of you.”

Hux gives up, turning around sharply and storming away.

Before he’d been so forwards, Ren thought it was a joke.

Now, when he spoke his mind, Ren thinks him to be too serious.

Hux can never win.

“Wait,” Ren calls, taking desperate steps forwards, a wild glint to his eyes. “Hux, wait.”

Hux stands, taps one foot against the ground in a rhythmless manner. “What is it now? Were you not satisfied with your answer?” He huffs, turning his head away, blinking rapidly as bitter, frustrated tears surface. “I’m afraid you can't demand another truthful answer. That wasn’t our bargain—“

“Hux,” Ren repeats. He stands before Hux, looking down, meeting Hux’s eyes anyway. He takes a hold of Hux’s hands and holds them in his massive paws. “I have a request… though it does take the form of a question.”

Hux presses his lips together. “Well? Get on with it.”

Ren takes a deep breath, stuttering somewhere in his long throat. “Would you dance with me?”

Hux takes a step back, eyes flickering over the open space and the grass underfoot. “Right here? Right now?” He says, shaking his head. With no music, with Ren wearing his rags and Hux wearing strange, enchanted clothing.

“No,” Ren says, leaning ever closer. He brushes back hair from Hux’s face, entranced by something Hux can’t see. “I’d like to dance… tonight, after dinner. Wear something nice.”

With that, Ren makes a dramatic exit, bumping shoulders with Hux as he heads towards the tree line.

Hux shakes his head.

He can never tell if Ren appreciates his company or simply tolerates him.

*

He tells the enchanted, sympathetic closet so much when he returns to his room, peeling off his many layers and folding them neatly before returning them within the deep and endless closet.

The closet groans, like the wooden beams of an old house settling.

“I’ll need something else for dinner,” Hux says. “Something... fit for a Ball.”

He takes a quick step away as the closet doors shut themselves and fly open once again.

Hux is not given options this time.

But he doesn’t need them.

He pulls out a hanger and smiles at what the magical closet has chosen for him.

“Perfect,” Hux says.

*

The castle has shifted shapes, it too being enchanted and utterly unfair. Hux walks on in twisting, unfamiliar halls. Perhaps the castle pities him, because he ends up exactly where he needs to be.

The Ballroom door stands ahead of him.

Tall.

Impossibly tall. And golden.

Extravagant.

He closes his gaping mouth, shocked by such luxury. He shouldn't be, after all, considering what wondrous clothes the closet’s produced for him, considering the large acreage and whispering trees.

Hux reaches out and pushes the door open.

Ren stands at the end of the stairs, moonlight shining through a glass window, striking him… His fur has been combed, a blue ribbon tying back the longer, more hair-like sections into a neat ponytail. No longer does he wear rags; he wears a suit of deep purple, golden accents at the edges.

And though he looks gorgeous and fine, he stares up at Hux, like he’s hung all the stars in the sky.

Hux walks down the staircase, a gloved hand resting on the railing.

He reaches the bottom, Ren seemingly frozen in place. Then he bows, deeply, meeting Ren’s large golden eyes as he looks back up.

“You look amazing,” Ren breathes, staring openly at the fitted golden coat and slim white pants. His hands linger in the air, as if unsure or unaware that he is more than welcome to touch Hux.

“As do you,” Hux says.

Ren’s bare feet touch the ground—shaped more like a wolf’s paws than human feet. He lets it go. Ren is not _perfect_ in the way Hux’s tiny town would expect or want, but he is _perfect_ in other ways, all the ways that count.

Like when he sat along with Hux as he read.

Or like when he showed him how to skip stones.

Or now, when Ren grins charmingly, golden eyes so very warm and so very lovely.

“May I have this dance?” Ren says, sweeping into a bow of his own.

“Of course,” Hux says, holding out a hand.

One of Ren’s hands takes Hux’s extended one, the other settles around Hux’s waist. Around them, music swells, filling the air.

They dance to the music, feet clipping against the black and white shined floor.

Shadows grow from the walls and join them on the Ballroom floor, gowns and suits and skin gaining color, gaining vibrancy until the Ballroom is filled with flesh and blood people.

Hux looks up and finds Ren diminished, shorter now, without his fur or claws or overgrown teeth. He finds Ren entirely human: sickly pale with long black hair, still swept into a ponytail, and the most gorgeous brown eyes he’s seen in his life.

Hux looks down, at Ben’s hairless, human hand held in his and down still, at bare feet plodding against the polished floor.

“What’s wrong?” Ren asks, his voice different, softer.

Hux looks back up, eyes wide.

Ren face has returned to the cursed form, the one Hux has seen every day for  what feels like so long now.

“N-nothing,” Hux manages, unable to explain what’s come over him.

They’re alone on the Ballroom floor, no people dancing in tandem, no musicians sitting upon a platform.

“Hux,” Ren says softly, the music curdling to its end behind them. “You’re shaking… What’s happened?”

Hux tries to take deeper breaths, but he fails. Each breath comes as a gulp, his skin pallid and sweaty. “Nothing,” he denies once again, speaking far too quickly, far too loudly.

Ren lets go of his hands, allowing them to fall back to Hux’s sides.

Hux looks up, meeting Ren’s eyes, back to their animalistic, unnatural gold. Of course they were part of the curse. Just what was he thinking…

“You need to tell me what’s wrong,” Ren says, his teeth coming together, grinding audibly.

“You were human before,” Hux says, collecting himself from wherever he’d gone in those shocking few moment.

“Yes,” Ren says, drawing back. He narrows his eyes, suspicion glinting in them. “Why? Would you prefer a human rather than the— rather than the Beast you see before you?”

Hux snorts. “You’re hardly a beast," he says. “Even with your fangs and fur and incessant snarling, you’re still more human than animal.”

Ren doesn’t know what to say at that. He opens and closes his mouth before giving up altogether. It’s like looking at a fish who can’t quite breathe. “What? What’s brought this on?”

He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Ren says, intensity rolling off him in waves.

Hux sighs. “Very well,” he says. “I caught a glimpse of you without your curse. I saw the castle in its normal state, filled with nobles dressed in finery and dancing to your court musicians. Happy?”

Ren’s nostrils flare with some strange emotion. He twirls away and thrusts a fist against a wall, howling.

“What now?” Hux says with a sigh.

“Get out,” Ren says quietly.

He rolls his eyes, bowing deeply though Ren can’t see. “Very well, my Lord,” Hux says scathingly before turning and exiting the Ballroom.

Already the glory fades around him, pale yellow walls growing white and colorless with age.

It strikes him that this might all be Ren’s doing—afterall, the Beast had called himself a magician on occasion.

Hux shakes his head. No sense to dwell on unimportant matters.

*

He wakes up suddenly, groggy, hating the taste of his own mouth. The bed shifts underneath a massive additional weight.

Hux rolls over, staring directly at the dark shape of Ren.

Ren looks a little shocked at being caught, his ears flattening against his head.

“Well?” Hux says hoarsely. “What are you waiting for?”

Ren relaxes then, lying down on the bed, horns snagging against the many pillows and their cases.

Wordlessly, Hux turns around, fixing the blankets around him.

“Goodnight Hux,” Ren murmurs, when Hux is somewhere between the land of the living and the land of the dreamers.

He’d like to think he says goodnight back.

*

Days are spent in the same, familiar way. Ren walks, Hux follows.

Sometimes they compete with shooting or skipping stones or other such silly things.

And sometimes they stay indoors, in the library, and Hux reads aloud to Ren while Ren rests his head in Hux’s lap.

Dinners are the same too.

Hux eats opulent meals, rich and fatty with no end in sight.

Ren sits beside him, eyes unable to leave the planes of Hux’s face.

At night, things grow a little different.

Ren slips inside of Hux’s bed at night and curls up, hogging all the sheets and nicking all the pillows with his great horns.

Hux doesn’t know why this nighttime routine had started. But he doesn't question it. The feeling of having someone’s arm stretched across your waist… it’s a comforting one Hux has long gone without.

He won’t be rid of the protective embrace. Not so soon. Not when he needs it.

Every morning he wakes up alone, blankets brought nearly up to his chin.

*

“You know,” Ren says, voice cutting through the dark of night, “I noticed that you stole a butter knife.”

Hux heartbeat quickens underneath where Ren’s hand rests. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chooses to say in an insulted, aggravated sort of way, as if shocked up the accusation.

“I didn’t think you’d use it to mark the days,” Ren remarks casually enough. “If I had known, I would have given you a calendar.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “My way works well enough,” he says, giving up the ruse entirely.

Ren smiles. “Though it seems you’re a little off,” he says, reaching across Hux to finger at the carved lines on the wall. “You’ve been here longer than this.”

Hux lets out a puff of air. “Well, if you're so offended by my errors, why don't you fix them?”

Ren’s paw squirms its way underneath Hux’s pillow, pulling out the butter knife from where it’d been hidden. He carves lines besides Hux’s careful ones, tearing through the tacky wallpaper.

“There,” he says, once satisfied, dropping the knife behind the bed, somewhere Hux can't reach easily. But before Hux can voice his upset at that, Ren drops a heavy arm over his hips.

The weight of Ren’s arm… is something Hux had wanted.

Hux places his hand over Ren’s, keeping it securely there.

*

“Can you eat?” Hux asks him one night at dinner.

“As in… am I physically capable of eating?” Ren asks. “Yes… I am capable. But the food laid out before your does not provide me with proper nourishment. It’s… a part of my curse.”

“Ah,” Hux manages. As if Ren’s explanation made sense.

Ren smiles at him. “Shall we retire to bed then?” he says.

Hux's heart lurches in his throat. His eyes settle upon the span of Ren’s shoulders, the newer black robes spread over them. They’d never retired to bed together. “We shall,” he says, all in a rush, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste to get up.

Ren follows up closely, through the halls and up the stairs until they arrive at Hux’s rooms.

“You know,” Ren whispers into Hux’s ear, draping himself against the smaller man, “I think we’d ought to take a bath.”

Hux’s face heats to a criminal degree. “The bath is not large enough for the both of us,” he says, cursing himself for his words.

(Of all the times to be truthful! He could have had a naked Ren pressed skin to skin against him in the tub!)

“I’ll fix that,” Ren says, waving a clawed hand.

The ensuite door shuts itself, knob twisting and turning, the sounds of battle behind it. Then all goes still.

“Would you get that, dearest?” Ren says.

Hux moves as if in a trance, peeling his body away from Ren’s great warmth. He opens the door easily, a large circular tub in the bathroom’s very center.

“How…?” He says trailing off, staring at Ren.

“Magic,” Ren says, proud and smiling, as if all worries have been left behind. He brushes past Hux, knocking his narrow shoulders and says, “Come on… The water’s hot.”

Ren strips himself quickly, tossing his clothing to the floor without a thought, and then submerges himself into the bath, shaking some fizzling powder into the mix.

“Well?” Ren says from the bath, water dampening his fur, causing it to flatten against his skin, revealing the musculature of his form. “What are you waiting for?”

Hux turns away from Ren, stripping himself as quickly as his trembling hands can manage. He folds each piece before placing them in a neat pile, far from the tub and any potential splashes.

He takes a breath and turns around, meeting Ren’s hungry eyes.

Hux steps into the bath, sinking into the hot water until the water reaches his shoulders. He lets out a shuddering sigh, relaxing within the white porcelain.

They wash each other silently, using perfumed bars of soaps and washcloths so soft and neat that they’d surely cost more than Hux could make in a year in his tiny, stagnant village.

Ren is especially gentle when dragging the washcloth in small circles around Hux’s inner thighs.

Hux can hardly stifle a sigh.

The water is cloudy with whatever Ren added to it, but it’s not nearly enough to hide Hux’s growing hardness.

“Would you like it if I took care of that?” Ren says, mouth against Hux’s ear, body pressed so terribly near.

“Y-yes,” Hux says, hating how he stutters, hating how he needs to feel Ren closer, closer, closer.

Ren wraps a hand around Hux’s cock, stroking it slowly. His thumb caresses the tip. He smiles at Hux’s whimpers.

Hux reaches over, reaches for Ren’s cock, a monstrously sized thing that’s too long and thick for one hand alone. Ren slaps at Hux’s hand. “This is about you,” Ren says, choosing to nibble at Hux’s ear.

It only winds another moan from him, something soft and sweet, something Hux is not.

Ren strokes him softly, too softly, the other hand going to cup Hux’s balls. He licks the shell to Hux’s ear, laughing gently. “I love how red you can get,” he says, voice deep and oh so lovely. “Pretty, pretty Hux… I’m glad you took the place of your father.”

With those simple words, Hux feels himself wilt in Ren’s hand. “Can we not talk about my _father_ when we’re— when we’re fucking,” Hux hisses, words nearly lost in another moan as Ren teases him.

“Fucking,” Ren repeats, tutting, grip on Hux’s cock tightening. It’s just right—the hold, the friction, the size and texture of Ren’s calloused hand. "What a dirty word.”

Hux comes with a yelp, leaning closer to Ren, squeezing, squeezing, never close enough.

Ren lets go of his softening cock.

“Look,” he says, drawing Hux out from his drowsy state. “The essence of you.”

Hux’s seed floats in the murky water, only dirtying it further.

Hux furrows his nose, too tired and blissed-out to do much else.

Ren drains the tub completely before running another bath. “Let’s get you all cleaned up again,” he says lowly, “even if we’ll just end up dirty again…”

Hux lets him, nodding off against the tub’s edge.

*

He wakes up when he’s placed gently onto his (well, now it’s _their)_ bed, wrapped in a large white towel.

“What are you doing?” Hux asks, groggy, an ache behind his eyes.

Ren has dressed himself in a dark nightgown, one that clings to damp fur.

“Helping you,” Ren says simply.

Hux can't find his words, confused as to why Ren would go to the trouble of carrying him to bed instead of simply waking him up.

Ren runs a hand through Hux’s mused hair. “I wasn’t going to let you sleep in the tub,” he says. “Get something to wear for the night.” He tilts his head towards the closet, whose doors already open, bursting with nightgowns of all sorts.

Hux stands, dropping the damp towel at the foot of the bed, sure that Ren will get an the full view of himself.

He looks through the many, many nightgowns provided by the enchanted closet, humming lowly to himself. After the success in the ensuite, he has to continue forth.

Hux pulls a sheer robe from the closet, decorated with white strips of lace. He shrugs it on slowly, nothing quite hidden underneath it, and turns back to the bed as he holds together the front.

“Y-you don't have to—“ Ren says, sitting up from where he’d been laying, sprawled over the covers to the bed.

“But I’d _like_ to,” Hux says, sure to enunciate each word. “It gives me pleasure to be wanted.”

Ren doesn't say anything. He can’t. Instead he stares and gapes like a fish as Hux joins him in bed.

Hux faces away from Ren, stealing the blankets while he can. “Goodnight,” he says.

“Goodnight,” Ren says back, wrapping himself around Hux, pressing them back to chest.

It’s nice.

*

Morning comes. And with it comes something else.

The snoring Beast at his bedside.

Ren has never been so loud, nor has he ever held Hux so close before.

Hux squirms, pulling away from Ren’s great, big awful self, finding it to be an unsuccessful maneuver. He sighs and gives up his useless fight, instead swatting at Ren’s arm.

“Wake up,” Hux hisses urgently.

Ren groans a little, snuggling closer, grip around Hux only strengthening.

Which is highly unlikely for a sleeping little beastie.

“I know you’re awake,” Hux says. “Get off of me.”

“Just five more minutes,” Ren murmurs, his fingers playing with the lace of Hux’s sleepwear. Sometime within the night, the sheer robe had fallen open. Hux doesn’t bother trying to fix it now.

“Ren,” Hux says slowly, dropping his voice until it’s husky and low.

That sure catches his attention. Ren’s ears prick, as if to try to hear more, golden eyes peering at him.

“We have to get dressed and ready for the day,” Hux says, tracing nonsense patterns against Ren’s furry arm.

“What will we do?” Ren says, nuzzling against Hux’s neck.

It tickles, but Hux refuses to lose his composure so soon. “I think we should have another competition. Another test of skill. What other sorts of weapons do you hide in that rickety shack?”

Ren rolls over, pulling Hux so that he lies on top of his massive form. “That sounds vaguely like innuendo,” he says, grinning wildly, already groping at the bottom of Hux’s robe—not that the robe extended far at all…

And on one hand, it’d be nice, exactly what Hux wanted even.

But on the other, it’s simply too easy.

Hux presses his hands against Ren’s chest, pushing himself up and away. He stands, Ren’s arms having gone limp and pliant.

“If you win, I’ll do whatever you want,” Hux promises, eyes trailing Ren’s form.

“Whatever I want?” Ren repeats, a chuckle reverberating through him. “And what do you get if you win?”

“If I win, you’ll do what I want as well,” Hux says. “Does that sound fair?”

“And… say we’d like the same thing?” Ren says, still reclining on the overlarge bed.

Hux allows a smile. “Then good for the both of us,” he says, opening the closet door. “Pick what I should wear today,” he orders Ren.

“And if I’d like for you to wear nothing at all?" Ren says, standing, coming to stand behind Hux. He presses himself close, like a particularly affectionate cat.

“Well, I'd think that’d be impractical,” Hux says, pretending to muse Ren’s suggestion.

“I’ll think of something else then,” Ren says, reaching out an arm to push the closet doors shut. “Closet, how about something of mine? Made to Hux’s measurements, of course.”

The closet rumbles, as if thinking just what to create.

It opens a door slowly, as if hesitant about what it’s chosen.

Hux pulls the ruffled thing out from the closet, unsure if it’s one of the shorter dresses the closet tends to fabricate or if it’s just an overlong shirt. Black and beaded, the fabric feels wondrous between his fingers.

He smiles, just picturing Ren in something like this. “Would you care to match?” He says, thinking himself sly.

“Alas, as a Beast I’m not privy to such fine clothing,” Ren says, lamenting his very words.

“Surely not,” Hux says, snorting. “If the closet can create something for me, it can create something for you as well.” He opens his mouth, as if to give the order himself, but Ren beats him to it.

“Closet, a pair of trousers as well as something for warmth. It’s quite chilly today,” Ren says, even as Hux pulls on the first piece he’d been given, buttoning up the minuscule buttons.

The closet provides a red vest lined with golden thread to accompany the strange shirt along with pants. As Hux pulls those on, Ren looks a bit as though he’s being punished.

“Now then,” Hux says, pulling on dress shoes that also had been magicked up. “Your turn.”

*

Ren doesn't wear what Hux had dreamed of. Instead he’s dead set on wearing another ragged cloak. Tragic.

“Here,” Ren says, handing him a delicate looking pistol, looking more fashionable than combat worthy. But Ren’s own looks the same, so perhaps it’s simply Ren preferring the ostentatious to the practical.

The targets have been moved once again by unseen and unheard attendants.

They compete, shooting, trying to one up each other.

But in the end it doesn't truly matter.

*

Hux pulls Ren down by his horns, kissing him messily, their gasps and breaths audible in the gaping hall.

Ren pulls away, his pupils as small as pins. “We’re never going to get back to your room at this rate,” he says, his voice cracking as he speaks, hands never letting go of Hux’s waist.

Hux presses the Beast against the wall, nuzzling him, taking in the deep, dark, murky smell of Ren.

“The bedroom,” Ren croaks. If he hadn’t been covered in a layer of fur, Hux is sure he’d be blushing something terrible.

“Carry me,” Hux demands, taking a step back, lifting his chin. Ever proud, ever regal.

Ren does. He picks Hux up easily, holding him in his arms like a freshly wedded bride, taking the chance to kiss his forehead.

Once in the bedroom, Ren places him gently on the bed, kissing him once more, looming over him.

Hux kicks off his shoes and trousers without a care, fingering the tiny buttons on the lacy shirt.

“Careful,” Ren says, discarding his cloak and raggedy clothing in the same haphazard way. “Your clothing doesn't deserve to be treated that way.”

“Yes, well, and yours—“ Hux starts, just before words fail him.

The sight of Ren's cock—free from clouded water and layers of clothing, free from anything that might have hidden its sheer size and girth—is quite… intimidating.

“That won't fit in me,” Hux says.

Ren snorts. “Of course it won’t,” he says, already growing mournful, slightly wilting. He presses the palms of his hands against his eyes, groaning. “Another curse to be a Beast.”

No, no. Hux can  _fix_ this.

He lets out an audible sigh, one that’s loud enough to cover the sound of his quickly beating heart.

“Do you have something for lubrication?” Hux asks.

Ren produces a small bottle of oil seemingly from the air. But he’s frowning tightly. “I thought you said…” he says, trailing off as Hux snatches the bottle from him.

Hux opens it, pouring a small amount of the heated liquid into the palm of a hand. He smears in about the insides of his thighs, rubbing soft, slow circles, patterns that make him sigh.

Ren reaches out, ears pinned to either side of his head. “What—“ he says, so very lost, “what should I do?”

“Lie down,” Hux instructs, pleased at how quickly Ren follows orders. “On your side, that’s it,” he croons.

Hux lies down too, settling himself in front of Ren’s warmth.

“What now?” Ren says, pressing small kisses to the nape of Hux’s neck.

Hux raises a leg slightly and pulls Ren’s cock through the gap between his thighs, coming just below Hux’s own cock. In the perfect position. Hux pours more oil in the palm of his hand, hardly able to grasp the both of them.

Ren keens, a low sound, one that reverberates in Hux’s entire being. “Here,” he says, his hand joining Hux’s in their ministrations. “Let me…”

*

Hux cannot count the days.

Not when they're filled with so much to remember.

Walking the castle corridors and lands surrounding with Ren or reading the endless books. Shooting games and challenges. Dinners so extravagant, he’s spoiled for any other food. Clothing so soft and beautiful—he only wishes Techie could have some too.

Living inside Ren’s castle is like a dream.

(Sure they do argue. They haven't changed _that_ much.

But Ren never lays an angry hand on Hux. That’s more than can be said of Brendol Hux or Maratelle.)

*

But such happy careless days are not meant to last.

Hux wakes up alone, shuddering at awful chill.

“What the hell…?” He mutters as he sits up, gathering the comforter closer around him.

“Ren?” Hux calls. “Where are you?”

No response.

He curses under his breath. Has he gone moody again? He’ll have to sort it out.

Hux pushes back the covers and leaves the relative comfort of the bed. The floor is like ice to his bare feet. Something is terribly wrong.

“Closet,” he says. “Something warm for the day. If feels like hell’s frozen over.” Hux shakes his head, wrapping his arms around himself.

The closet doesn’t respond.

He walks to it and knocks on its doors. No response.

Hux pries a door open and finds… old clothing, with moth holes chewed right through the various materials. He rummages throughout the less enchanted closet, finding nothing in his size.

But everything that could possibly fit a human Ren.

He swallows thickly, pulling out a heavy jacket and strangely shaped pants.

Shoes sit at the bottom of the closet, again bigger than his feet, again more suited for Ren’s human physique. When he pulls on a pair of boots, they rub his heels harshly. But it’ll do.

It must.

He leaves his room and runs about the castle like a chicken that’s lost its head.

No Ren in the library, just shelf after shelf of lifeless books.

No Ren in the dining room. Just an empty table gathering dust.

No Ren, it seems, anywhere.

“The knights,” Hux breathes, skidding past one of them.

It stands alone, an armored hand resting upon the hilt. Once, it must have been beautiful. Now it stands sadly, all rusted over.

“No,” Hux says, shaking his head slowly. It’s not right. Everything is wrong and different, as if… as if the castle has not been lived in for years.

He blinks back a surge of useless tears, swallowing back a sob.

He isn't alone.

He hasn’t gone mad in this empty place.

There’s… somewhere else he hadn't considered in the enormous place.

Ren’s bedroom, within the Western Wing, at the very top of a tower.

Hux’s legs ache at the thought of so many stairs.

But. If Ren is there… it’ll all be worth it.

He runs again, not caring for his appearance, as his coat flaps about, as his hair surely becomes wild, not caring for spiderwebs or the clouds of dust he kicks up.

He is a man on a mission in this moment.

And he will not fail.

Hux pushes open the doors to Ren’s decrepit room.

The furniture is trashed, bed broken nearly in half, sheets falling to the floor in a sad puddle. Chairs and tables have been overturned. The windows smashed, bits of glass littering the floor.

And yet one thing remains the same.

A rose sits, floating by some otherworldly power on the only piece of righted furniture—a small table. All of its petals have fallen, leaving it bare.

But what could it mean…?

The curse.

Ren had mentioned being cursed.

What if— what if this was just part of the curse?

Hux mutters a curse to himself, trudging down the steps as quickly as he’d come up. Time is of the essence. It always is.

But perhaps there is time enough to take a detour—to that shack beside the target range.

*

It’s snowing outside, flakes settling amongst the grass, gathering in the trees. The wind rises, pulling and tugging at Hux’s coat.

“Ren!” Hux shouts, words carried further by the relentless wind.

It echoes back, frightened and unsure, everything Hux has been taught to not be.

“Ren!” he calls again, trying hard to not feel hopeless, to not feel so… useless.

But the trees, the trees, the trees… The wind sings a song as it races through snow laden branches. Hux races between the trees, branches scratching at his cheeks, snagging on overgrown hair.

“Ren!” he continues to shout, stomach rolling. “Where are you?”

Of course, he hears no answer.

But somehow he knows that Ren must still live.

Hux stumbles over something, falling onto his hands and knees, cold snow seeping through the knees of his trousers.

“What the hell…?” he mutters, digging through the snow, uncovering a fallen knight.

This knight is missing its head.

Hux curses, scrambling to his feet.

Scattered pieces of knights rest mostly buried in the snow, all leading to where the lake is.

Hux follows them, taking care to not stumble again. Time. Time runs through the gaps between his fingers. If he takes too long, Ren could die in this chill.

Hux shudders horribly, fingers nearly numb.

He stumbles out from between the trees, to the frozen lakeside.

And he too freezes, unable to take in what he sees before him.

Ren. Beastly, as he is, he’s grown into an animal, hunched over on all fours, snarling into the carcass of a deer. The prey’s body is twisted out of recognition, eyes staring blankly out, right at Hux.

And over them both is a man.

A man whose face is twisted and unnatural. A man with golden eyes.

He smiles when he meets Hux’s eyes. “Welcome, Mr Armitage Hux,” the man— _no_ , the _creature_ says, thin lips twitching. “I am sure you enjoyed your stay within the Organa Castle. Shame about how this all will end. Shame that Lord Ren did not release you from your imprisonment before it all came to this.”

With every bite, every tear, Ren takes from the deer, he grows less human.

This, Hux realizes, is whoever cursed his dear Ren.

“You must be so scared,” the creature croons. “Oh… I’m being impolite. My name is Snoke.”

“ _What_ are you?” Hux hisses.

Snoke tuts at him, as if Hux is a child in need of lessons. “I will ask the questions here, Mr Hux,” he says simply. “You have no power here. Not as Ren’s prisoner.”

Hux bristles, but says nothing, simply waiting. This Snoke doesn’t know anything then.

Good.

Let him talk.

“How scared are you?” Snoke asks.

Hux looks from Ren transforming body back to Snoke. “Not at all, I’m afraid,” he says, keeping himself calm and composed.

“You do not need to lie here,” Snoke says, sounding gentle and kind, something he is not. “Who would not be afraid of a Beast? It is normal, sensible even.”

“I am not afraid," Hux spits.

“Then are you disgusted?” Snoke croons, taking careful steps to his Ren, pulling Ren’s head up by his scruff. Ren snarls, human-like expressions lost to him. Blood and gore cling around his mouth. “This is a monster.”

“I’d never be so easily disgusted,” Hux says simply, turning his nose up at the disrespectful show.

“Why?” Snoke says, letting go of his Ren. "Why aren’t you afraid?”

“I love Kylo Ren, even with all his faults,” Hux says, freeing the pistol from where he’d hidden it within the thick winter coat. One shot to Snoke’s bulbous head is all that takes to have him dead.

And like that, the curse unravels.

The snow melts as the air becomes balmy and sweet. The many scattered pieces of the knights piece themselves together and revive, this time with humans inside of them.

But Hux doesn't care for all that.

He only has eyes for his Kylo Ren.

Ren is human once again, diminished from his Beastly form, but still so beautiful, long, dark hair fallen over his face. He crouches over the deer carcass, his arms trembling terribly.

He’s nude, all clothing lost to him.

Hux unbuttons the overlarge jacket and drapes it over Ren, pulling him bodily away from the rotting animal.

“Hux…?” Ren says, looking at him. His eyes are half closed and hazy, a deep and warm brown color. “What’s happened?”

“I believe I’ve broken your curse,” Hux says simply, tugging one of Ren’s arms over Hux’s narrow shoulders. He’s heavy, mostly dead weight; but this, this is something Hux can handle.

“You’ve broken my curse?” Ren repeats in a sleepy, dazed sort of way. “How?”

Hux snorts. “Either because I confessed my love for you or because I shot that wizard in the face. Now let’s focus on getting you back inside the castle. You’re in desperate need of rest.”

The knights whisper amongst themselves. Hux only catches bits and pieces.

Of a Prince named Ben Organa Solo.

“Tell me,” Hux says to the speechless man. “Is Kylo Ren your real name?”

Ren huffs out a little laugh, leaning closer to Hux, leaching his body warmth. “It’s a long story,” he says.

“One you’ll tell to me, I hope,” Hux mutters, shaking his head slowly.

What else could he expect from his Kylo Ren?

*

*

*

_The End._

 

 

 


End file.
